Life is BEAUTIFUL
by Misty Woods
Summary: A young boy laments for the loss of his mother, finally finding comfort in the sea. A toddler throws remarkable tantrums. Read about 2 beautiful young girls. But are they to be envied? A couple waltzes, with a twist to the story. Experience VIBRANCE!
1. The Waltz

THE WALTZ  
  
You've got to sing like nobody's listening, you've got to love like you'll never get hurt, you've got to dance like nobody's watching, you've got to live like it's Heaven on Earth.  
  
-Author Unknown  
  
I can't tell you what the meaning of life, but I can dance it.  
  
-Woody Allen  
  
Under the twinkling, teardrop crystals of the chandelier, the couple whirled and twirled. She was wearing a cherry-pink gown that swept the marble floor. It was trimmed with snow-white ostrich feathers and sequins adorned the tight-fitting bodice, which accentuated her slim, willowy figure. The satin sleeves were puffy, showing off her slender arms. A tasseled shawl was draped over her shoulders of alabaster white and her silky hair was swept into a stylish chignon, with a few prim tea roses tucked at the sides of her ears. On her tiny feet were dainty, pink slippers with a rosebud each at the tips. He wore an elegant, black tuxedo with smart, black tap shoes. His hair had been carefully combed and slicked back, giving him a neat and trim look.  
  
In the extremely large hall with gleaming glass walls, they danced without a care. The rotating spotlights winked merrily, enjoying the sight. As he spun her around, her skirt flared and she bent her head back, smiling in pure bliss. At a far corner, musicians played song after song. First, it was Fur Elise, then it was A Maiden's Prayer, then Blue Danube Waltz, Moon River and many other familiar tunes that are lovely to the ear. The pleasant music helped build up the romantic atmosphere and as the sky became darker, the lights were gradually, slowly dimmed.  
  
Now, dazzling, sparkling stars, millions of them, ornamented the ebony tapestry, glittering like diamonds. It almost seemed that the sky was a diamond mine! Now and then, a glowing comet rushed by, illuminating the entire midnight sky. The moon was a shimmery silver and gold. It was shaped like a crescent, like a little boat drifting aimlessly but confidently in the wide, vast ocean waters.  
  
Meanwhile, they danced, and danced, and danced. They were completely oblivious to their surroundings. Each was gazing only at the other party with dreamy eyes filled with wonder, hope and faith. The musicians were long since silent, but still, they danced, and whirled, and spinned and twirled. It seemed that they were waltzing to a soundless music that only they could hear. Easily, so easily it seemed effortless, they could sense each others' emotions, thoughts and feelings. Step by step, slowly but surely, he directed the dance, leisurely gliding from one end of the room to the next.  
  
She laughed when he tipped her back, her tinkling laughter ringing through the dome-shaped room, sounding like a thousand tiny bells chiming in the cool, night breeze. They danced till it was morning. The fiery, majestic sun rose from his throne, commanding his allies to his side. Soon, the rosy sky was packed with purple, orange and pink clouds that floated lazily and lethargically, occasionally changing their shapes for fun.  
  
The couple was still dancing when unexpectedly, everything faded away into the early morning light. It came just like a sudden, nasty downpour that would have dampened anyone's spirits. Now, she was merely clothed in a plain blue dress with a white sash and lace apron. Her hair was tied in a simple braid that hung limply down her back that was damp with perspiration. He was merely clothed in a loose white shirt that was stained with dirt and grime. Both wore similar tattered and torn brown shoes.  
  
Instead of the enormous hall, they were now in the garden in front of their shabby house. Violet daisies, sapphire bluebells, golden sunflowers and scarlet full-blown roses sprang up among the bottle green grass along the brick pathway. The sweet, gentle fragrance of lavender drifted from the house as a roughly whittled wooden wind chime clanked in the breeze.  
  
Still, they danced, and danced, and danced, totally oblivious to anything else but each other. Their special life together had just started. It was not special only because they loved each other and were not ashamed to show it, and not only because they had such high hopes for their future together.  
  
It was simply because they were both blind. 


	2. Angel

ANGEL  
  
I may speak in tongues of men or of angels, but if I am without love, I am  
a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal. I may have the gift of prophecy, and  
know every hidden truth; I may have faith strong enough to move mountains;  
but if I have no love, I am nothing. I may dole out all I possess, or even  
give my body to be burnt, but if I have no love, I am none the better.  
-The Bible, 1st Book of Corinthians  
  
It was autumn.  
The morning air was fresh and cool,  
The grass bottle-green,  
The blossoming blooms  
Were of a thousand hues and  
The beautiful gold red leaves drooped  
From the trees' branches.  
  
Staring out of the misty train window,  
He caught sight of the most gorgeous girl  
He had seen in years.  
She had wavy, chestnut hair that  
Cascaded down her slender shoulders and  
Her skin was like marble with the  
Purity of rich, snow-white petals of a rose.  
  
She had a Grecian nose and finely chiseled features,  
And a smile was playing at the corners of her mouth.  
Wearing a fitting white dress with green floral patterns,  
Her slim waist was accentuated.  
In her hands, she clasped a golden sunflower.  
Looking at her fingers stroking the delicate petals  
Just made him want to catch up her hand.  
  
But what really captivated him were  
Her mesmerizing emerald eyes that  
Slanted up in a graceful arc.  
They were stunning,  
Almost like swirling pools of ocean water,  
Continuously eddying, drawing him into them  
Without meaning to.  
  
The brilliant sunlight bathed her entire being and  
She stood there,  
Almost like a vision,  
An angel in the radiant light.  
He was entirely entranced by her and  
Wondered who she was,  
Staring at her with awe-filled eyes.  
  
But if he had turned to look another minute more,  
He would have had the shock of his life.  
A little, scruffy orphan had shuffled up to her,  
Tugging at her skirt and begging with woebegone eyes  
For a penny.  
But she instead, narrowed her eyes to thin slits,  
Then shouted at the child to get lost.  
  
Moaning, she frantically smoothed her dress,  
claiming tearfully that  
That horrible brat had stained it beyond repair.  
Oh! She wailed. What am I to do?  
'Tis my best dress, no less!  
The poor child humbly begged her pardon,  
But she only turned up her little nose and flounced off in a huff.  
  
Oh! Sorry is the state of this world,  
Where appearances are deceiving.  
But be not forgetful to  
Entertain strangers,  
For thereby some have  
Entertained angels  
Unawares. 


	3. The Toddler

THE TODDLER  
  
When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die, the world cries and you rejoice.  
  
-Cherokee Expression  
  
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was penned with inspiration from the heartwarmers.com 16th April 2001 issue: Supermarket Tantrums, written by Teri Goggin. Any resemblance to anyone living or deceased is purely coincidental.  
  
Wheezing and shaking uncontrollably with laughter, he surveyed the chaos all around him. Chips were strewn untidily all over the wooden floor and ketchup was oozing down from the table, creating crimson puddle after crimson puddle. Some other disgusted patrons had slimy spaghetti dangling from their heads, making them look like mops. A young trainee waitress promptly gave a little scream and swooned, collapsing on the floor with a thump. The entire restaurant was in a deep hush, but still, the toddler kept giggling and gurgling, wiping his small grubby hands on his soiled dungarees while his mother could only stare in shock, too stunned to even move.  
  
It was a crisp, clear mid-December evening. Christmas decorations, from the tacky to the sublime, were everywhere, and Christmas music gently hummed from every speaker in every store and restaurant. It was my favourite month of the year again, a time to soak in the sights and smells of the Yuletide season.  
  
After a hectic day of Christmas shopping, my family decided to have our dinner at a restaurant in the shopping mall. While my parents buried their noses in the menus, I watched the twinkling Christmas tree standing at the entrance of the restaurant, marveling at its brilliance and the magical feeling Christmas brought.  
  
As people-watching had always been my favourite past-time, my gaze was naturally diverted to a hyperactive toddler seated at the next table. To pass time while his mother tried to retrieve his helium-filled balloon, which had floated into the air, the child slithered down the side of his chair, snaking his way under and past my feet until he found freedom!  
  
Crawling at full speed across the restaurant, he dashed under other tables, much to the amusement of the other patrons who apparently thought he was quite entertaining. Unfortunately, their innocent smiles and chuckles only encouraged the monkey child's rogue behaviour.  
  
When his mother finally caught him, he let his little body go limp like a cat and giggled playfully as she tried to fold him into position again at the table.  
  
Once in a while, a sympathetic waitress would come over to ask if everything was alright. I then noticed the poor mother tucking furiously into her food. I presumed she could not wait to race out of the restaurant with her son to avoid further public embarrassment.  
  
As I was enjoying my dinner, I heard the mother's loud and shrill voice boom across the restaurant, "SIT DOWN!"  
  
Distracted by her sudden outburst of anger, I sat bolt upright, casting a look at her direction. It was only then did I suddenly notice something round and flat speeding towards me in the air. Swiftly, I dodged and the mysterious flying saucer crashed into my plate of noodles a few seconds later. Taking a closer look at it, I realized with great astonishment that it was a plate full of chips!  
  
Suddenly, there was another earsplitting crash and a few people yelled. Spinning around, I found the object of disturbance. While the mother was busy chattering on her mobile phone, her little boy had seized the opportunity of standing triumphantly on his chair, clutching his plates of spaghetti and chips, and flung the plates across the room like freebees in different directions.  
  
Hooting and chortling at his accomplishments, he had now snatched a saltshaker from his messy table overflowing with ketchup, threatening to hurl it at our table. He must have felt a strange excitement taking hold of him, for his eyes were gleaming with anticipation. The mother appeared glued to her seat. With her mouth gaped wide open, she merely stared at her monkey child in disbelief.  
  
I was totally stunned by his audacity! Watching him raise his arm and aiming the saltshaker at me, I stifled my urge to scream. Another surge of fear caused me to give an involuntary shudder. Just then, I released my grip of the fork. It fell onto the wooden floors with a loud thud. The atmosphere in the restaurant had become particularly tensed. Every diner seemed to focus his attention on the cherub-faced child, wondering if he would calm down and hoping his mother would do something to stop her toddler's fits.  
  
In order not to startle him, the captain moved quickly and quietly and somehow managed to grab the saltshaker away before any more harm was done. A quick-witted waitress hurriedly brought along a high chair to buckle the kicking body into the seat.  
  
All hell broke loose when the howling and wiggling boy found himself strapped into the high chair. His protests and piercing wails rang out, bouncing off the ceilings and echoing throughout the restaurant. His tiny fists pounded the sides of the high chair furiously, as if wrestling with it.  
  
Meanwhile, his mother pushed back her chair and stood up wearily. When she finally found the strength to talk, she whispered softly to the captain and waitress, "Thank you. You'll both go to heaven for this."  
  
Her rescuers simply smiled and nodded their heads as thunderous applause rang out from all four corners of the restaurant, causing even the little monkey child to stare silently and curiously at the giants who had imprisoned him, holding him captive in the high chair.  
  
Now, whenever I listen to complaints, wails and howls ringing out around me, I remember that monkey child with the cherubic face. I realize that tantrums are Mother Nature's way of making all parents with grown-up children within earshot thankful that their 'babies' have grown.  
  
To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven. A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; A time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; A time of war, and a time of peace.  
  
-Ecclesiastes 


	4. A Flowing Tide

A FLOWING TIDE  
  
People travel to wonder at the height of the mountains, at the huge waves of the seas, at the long course of the rivers, at the vast compass of the ocean, at the circular motion of the stars, and yet they pass by themselves without wondering.  
  
-St. Augustine  
  
Past the seeker as he prayed came the crippled and the beggar and the beaten. And seeing them...he cried, "Great God, how is it that a loving creator can see such things and yet do nothing about them?"...God said, "I did do something. I made you."  
  
-Sufi Teaching  
  
A small figure stood on the edge of the cliff. He was the only human visible that autumn evening. The muddy red brick road that curved like a snake behind him was deserted and gleamed after the torrential, heavy rain just a few minutes ago. After the huge storm, the houses around looked worn out, exhausted and battered. Nothing moved around the figure. Not even the brown, crinkled leaves that lay helplessly on the damp ground. And the figure did not move either.  
  
Overhead, the sky bubbled with purple and rosy pink clouds which pressed so low over the sloping land that one would have expected the figure to dodge now and then as the clouds swooped past like playful birds. Ancient trees that climbed the sloping land thrashed and wailed as gusting winds struck them. The ocean moved uneasily as streaming tails of snow-white spray tore themselves from the peaks of the cliffs. It almost seemed that land and sea were locked in a fierce battle.  
  
Against the wild seas that howled to be released from their iron cages, thrashing the high, cold, black cliffs, were 2 seagulls. With feathers like alabaster, they circled, dived, rose, glided together and apart in a silent music that only they could understand. Tenderly caressing the stormy, turbulent sea, they rose again into the comforting wind and curved, a white arch against the hedge of puffy clouds. Then, the breeze blew southwards, rising and falling in a constant motion with the waves. The sea was now a rich, deep cerulean and the sky high above and far, far away was a fainter yet profounder blue and flooded with bright sunshine. The expression on the boy's face was one of exultation as he lifted his hands in praise.  
  
He knew that the birds' brief ceremony would soon be over and each would resume its solitary, lifelong union with the sea and sky. The seagulls' wings tipped sideways, catching the wind and sunlight, swooping past him, dividing the wide sea into half as they went in opposite directions. He watched until they were only tiny, white specks in the sky- until he could no longer see them. It seemed that part of him had gone with the birds, gliding between sea and sky, involved, as everything else was, in keeping the tide flowing.  
  
But even though the gulls were separated, he knew in his heart that sea, sky, air and water still held together, and would always hold them as part of the vast tide, part of the harmonies of the living Earth.  
  
Just as he was held together with his late mother in a bond that was unbreakable and would last for all eternity. As he stood on the grass, looking at the pale gleam of lights on the waters of the bay, hearing the sleepy night sounds of birds and dogs, he looked up at the shadowy, midnight blue sky. He saw the Milky Way and constellations glowing in the dark expanse of sapphire.  
  
And somehow, he knew that his mother was watching him from above, beaming at him with her gentle smile that he remembered so well. In his heart, he recited the Serenity Prayer, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference." He grinned before heading back to bed. That night, he slept peacefully, as peacefully as a newborn babe.  
  
Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will direct your paths.  
  
Proverbs 3, 5-6 


	5. The Ballerina

THE BALLERINA  
  
The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. To dig for treasures shows not only impatience and greed, but lack of faith. Patience, patience, patience, is what the sea teaches. Patience and faith. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach - waiting for a gift from the sea.  
  
-Anne Morrow Lindbergh  
  
The young girl brushed the cloud of unruly, chestnut hair framing her face, clinging to it like a helmet. She swept it into an elegant, rich, full bun, sighing as a stubborn curl escaped it. Try as she might, she could not curb her hair completely. After adjusting her headdress, she gazed at herself in the mirror and gasped in astonishment. Ocean-blue eyes looked out from long but very pale eyelashes. Her face was pale, as if made of marble, with just a few freckles showing round her Grecian nose. Her skin was something quite exceptional in its white purity, not the purity of milk but the purity of rich white velvet or the petal of a gardenia. She had blossomed into a stunning, gorgeous swan by the use of skilful, clever make-up, which transformed her lovely face into one of even greater beauty.  
  
She suddenly thought of one of her favourite lines, 'She walks in beauty.' She clasped her hands in sheer bliss and curtseyed to her reflection in the mirror. She giggled at her vanity before doing her warm-ups. Plie, battements, rond de jambe, pique. Everything went according to the fixed order and the carriage of her head suggested the proud dignity of a future great ballerina.  
  
The girl's face practically glowed as she whirled and twirled on the smooth, wooden floor. Her tight fitting crimson leotard accentuated her petite, willowy body. Placing delicate hands already shaped by constant practice on the barre, she bent her supple, lithe body backwards. Her tutu of stiff tulle fluttered as the gentle, cool breeze sailed through the open windows, caressing her rosy cheeks. Just then, a little bird with feathers of radiant hues soared in, perching itself on the barre. It tilted its head to one side as it watched the wonderful performance, then glided into the air serenading merrily, as if applauding the girl.  
  
They were so engrossed in their little dance that they did not notice an ancient lady peering at them through her pince-nez, stooping in the shadows outside the studio. She watched as the youthful teenager flung her slender leg into the air, dancing to the upbeat music. Her movements were flowering, full of poetry and expression and she gave the impression of an exquisite vision from some other unreal world, gliding over the ground. She marveled at the way the girl sophisticatedly carried herself. She was the perfect essence of grace, of poise.  
  
The lady was old indeed. Her few hairs were already as white as pure snow falling from the sky. Her shortsighted eyes were now blurred with tears as she watched the girl. The tears rolled down her hollow cheeks, falling to the ground like pearls. Her hands had long since been sunburned and were now wrinkled with age. However, they proudly displayed numerous calluses earned from weary days of labouring in vast cotton fields. She clutched an wooden cane in her gnarled hands as she listened attentively to the music, an Oriental shawl wrapped around her bony frame.  
  
The girl was now performing a Spanish dance. Castanets purring in her hands, her proud demeanor truly executed the passionate dance. Suddenly, she carried out an incorrect step. Flinging her castanets to the ground, she shrieked in fury and stomped her foot as the music continued playing. The old one shook her head as she watched the girl turn into an evil witch. All of a sudden, she seemed like a gloomy, enraged thunderstorm, even like an infuriated volcano that had erupted, spilling its lava everywhere. Erect and haughty, she crossed the room to the radio and slapped it, turning it off. Fiery arrows darted from her eyes at the little bird, which now fled in absolute terror, screaming at the top of his lungs.  
  
The young girl's dark, cold eyes froze the old lady, chilling her to the bone as she stalked past her and spat, "What are you looking at, old woman? Get lost!" She stomped down the corridor, quite unlike the way any ballerina should walk. Her face was twisted into an ugly scowl that was enough to frighten even the bravest of us all. Her hunched shoulders were just as unsightly too.  
  
The old lady sighed as she reminisced, thinking of those days she spent toiling laboriously and diligently under the scorching sun to pick cotton, its rays burning her back. Drops of perspiration had poured down her cheeks and her back, drenching her cotton blouse. Yet, she had never once complained. She had tolerated the unbearable heat even though she had sometimes felt faint, and never grumbled about how her fingers were getting coarser. She stared at the young one's retreating back and sighed, muttering something that sounded like, "Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Nowadays, kids just don't have the patience to persevere."  
  
Then, she left, her wooden cane tapping the ground 


	6. The Cheerleaders

THE CHEERLEADERS  
  
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury; and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable; and wealthy, not rich; to study hard, think quietly, talk gently, act frankly; to listen to stars and birds, to babes and sages, with open heart; to bear all cheerfully, do all bravely, await occasion, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious grow up through the common. This is to be my symphony.  
  
-William Henry Channing  
  
The air in the stadium was tense and uptight with the eager and deafening roars of the numerous spectators. The basketball match was getting fiercer and more competitive as the seconds ticked by. Banners of rich and intense colours adorned the ceiling, flapping in the wind as if applauding the players, urging them to carry on this battle of mind, body and spirit. I settled myself comfortably on one of the soft, cushioned seats, munching popcorn while calmly surveying the whirl of colour and flurry of activity before my eyes.  
  
Almost at one glance, the cheerleaders mesmerized me. Tossing their long, golden-streaked hair, they seemed like daughters of the radiant, glowing sun, as lively and vivacious as fire sparks. Their arms were like slender willow branches swaying and bending in the breeze as they dances sensually on the shiny wooden floor to the upbeat music.  
  
They twisted their lithe bodies into sensational positions while cheering at full volume with the might of a lioness. Their feet never once stopped as they tapped and spinned, nodding their heads and giving winsome, engaging smiles.  
  
Their eyes twinkled merrily and their cheeks were like rosy apples after the energetic dancing. Skipping across the stadium while twirling their brilliant fans above their heads, they were like stunning flamingoes of a pinkish-red, spreading out their feathered wings, doing their own special dance with the vigour and vitality of busy, buzzing bees.  
  
Their skimpy tops and mini-skirts of flaming, vivid hues glittered and gleamed under the dazzling spotlight, showing off their tanned skin, as glossy as bronze plates. I wondered what my grandmother would say if she saw their clothing. Perhaps she would scream in shock, march up to them and give them a good lecture! The thought extremely tickled me and I could not help but giggle, drawing strange stares from the people sitting around me.  
  
Flowers of various soft shades ornamented their costumes. Their midriffs were finely chiseled, accentuating the smooth and even curves of their supple, flexible bodies. Gay streamers attached to their multi-colured outfits fluttered in the air like tails of a phoenix, creating swishing sounds that are pleasant to the ear.  
  
They were the perfect essence of vibrancy and beauty. They were so young, so carefree, just like the whispering wind, delighting our hearts and filling our souls with pure bliss. 


End file.
